Lefleure
by ignotus scriptor
Summary: Kate Summers is a vampire. Lefleure is the greatest vampire society after the Volturi. When Edward Cullen, an ex-friend of Kate's, calls out of the blue thirty years later to pull a favor, Kate is put into a difficult situation. Is betrayal an option?
1. Favors

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ISABELLA SWAN, EDWARD CULLEN, OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS/SETTINGS FROM THE TWILIGHT SERIES. THOSE BELONG TO STEPHENIE MEYER. ALL OTHER CHARACTERS AND PLOTLINES ARE MINE. FOR MORE INFORMATION ON THE TWILIGHT BOOK SERIES PHENOMENON, GO TO STEPHENIE MEYER'S WEBSITE.

- - - CHAPTER ONE: FAVORS - - -

It's autumn and I am standing over a bubbling creek with a disposable cell phone pressed against my ear. The voice, male, is saying something that I don't necessarily want to hear. My attention fades to the warm orange leaves of a nearby tree and then back to the conversation. It had been a heated one, and I could sense the voice on the other end starting to become agitated. A curse flys at me from the speaker, and I narrow my eyes. The tree branch that I am balanced on top of moves shakes as I pull away from the phone and say directly into the microphone, "Yeah well, fuck you too, Edward." I hear Edward's low laugh through the speaker and scowl at the device in my hand.

I drop the phone into the running water beneath me and look to Amy Ricci, who is waiting at the river's edge.

"I take it he's just not that into you?" she asks, and a hint of a smile plays on her pale face.

Snorting, I skip off the narrow tree branch and land next to her on the grass. "He got hitched, Ames. Can you believe that?"

"_Misellus_," she replies in Latin, and we stare at the water together. "To who?"

"Some blind freak named Isabella Swan."

"Wait—" She glances at me for a moment. "She's human?"

A smirk flips up the corner of my mouth. "Human. That's exactly something Edward Cullen would try to pull off."

"Should we—you know?"

I understand what she tries to imply and move my hand to ruffle her pretty blond hair. "If you can't even say the word…"

She looks up at me and wrinkles her nose. "I can do it," she says firmly. "Even if it is Edward."

"No doubt, Ames." I smile down at her eleven year old face and the determination that shines through. "But I'm not going to make you."

"But he married a human. And that's against—"

"The rules," I finish for her. "I know. Damien will give him hell for it. But I can't exactly kill him, can I?"

Amy sniffs. "You're Elite and he's not. And it's our job. We found out—we deal with it. That's the rule. Damien will give _you_ hell if he found out you knew and didn't take care of it."

The thought brings chills to my already cold skin. "Edward hasn't been an active member of Lefleure for years," I say finally. "But a_ human_! What was he thinking?"

"He was thinking of the next best thing," replied Amy, kicking the dirt under her feet. "He asked you to be his girlfriend and you rejected him. Now he found someone new and moved on. You know, I never liked him, Kate. He is such a—such a…_player_! And I hated how he used to mess up my hair."

I laugh and she scowls at me. "Don't try to brainwash yourself, sweetie. I've tried it for years and it just doesn't work. You take it for what it is; that's the best way."

Amy doesn't like what I suggest, and covers by rolling her eyes. "But it's gonna get out soon and you know it. Who will take the heat then?"

"The Volturi will take over if Lefluere fails," I reply bluntly. "Edward knows the ins and outs of this clan like the back his hand; the Volturi are the only ones who have a chance against him."

"And you know Edward like the back of your hand. You know how he thinks and how to keep him from reading your mind."

"Damien isn't going to send me, Ames." I pull my hair back with an elastic band. "I'll make sure he doesn't."

Shifting her weight, Amy prepares to lay on the facts. "If it's between you and Flynt, Damien's going to listen to Flynt. You wouldn't push off Flynt, would you?"

Sighing, I glance at her rounded child-like face and decide that she was bitten far too young. "No, Amy, I would never do that."

"So what? Are we going to wait this out and just pretend that Edward didn't call you ask you to cover for him?"

"What, you _want_ to go to Middle-of-Nowhere, Seattle? And let me tell you—it smells like dog there."

"Yuck."

I nod in agreement. "Well, at least he did something right. Lefluere can't trace his phone call back to me—apparently Edward sent me that disposable phone with a note to call him for exactly that reason."

"That asshole!" hisses Amy darkly, and I throw her a warning look. "Whatever, Kate. You say it all the time. But who does Edward think he is? He's the one who ran off, and now he expects to pull in some nonexistent favor from you? To protect some human girl? She's lunch, not love."

I'm silent. Amy is right, but I don't want to think about it.

The little girl next to me assesses my silence and asks quietly, "You said yes, did you?" A sparrow twitters on its perch in the tree canopy and I glance up to locate it.

"Yeah."

"But you don't love him…"

I consider for a moment. "No," I reply and look at the sparrow in the tree; I've found him. "No, but we were good friends once. Back when we were both just changed. We used to hang out when he couldn't put up with Carlisle anymore. Lefluere was tougher then, but he and I got through it together. And then during Assessment, I rose in ranks and he, well—he didn't."

"Do you miss him?"

Turning my attention to her, I furrow my eyebrows in mock confusion and say, "No, Ames. I've got you, haven't I?"

She grins and hugs my waist. "Yup, yup."

I muss her hair again. "Come on—let's go." Amy smiles and shakes herself out as preparation for the journey back to Headquarters. Running is always her favorite part about the change, and I understand why she loves it so much.

The speed, the rush—it allows her to forget about everything she left behind.


	2. Direction Trackers

- - - Direction Tracker - -

Damien stands outside the gates of Lefleure when Amy and I arrive, a smile of greeting lit across his pale chiseled face. The ancient vampire headquarters is a beautiful and majestic as ever, calling home a hidden black castle in the thick wilderness of Alaska. Towering over the tall trees against a crystal clear blue sky, it was built sometime during the medieval ages by the French vampires, the founders and original members of the Lefleure secret vampire society. Just one nock below the Volturi themselves, Lefleure is known to run as the Italian vampire's right-hand men. Simply put, Lefleure takes out all the problems before they can reach the kings and queens of the vampire network.

Amy arrives before me—as always; such speed is her talent—and returns Damien's smile with a grin of her own. I see her first a hundred feet away and then in a few milliseconds later only two feet away before I come to a sudden stop next to her. To Damien's presence I raise an eyebrow. "Something come up?" I ask with a laugh. "Damien Chevalier as my welcoming committee—since when did I have the honor?"

His golden eyes roll with exaggerated annoyance. Even with his one hundred fifty years he still acts and looks like a twenty year old. "It's crazy in there so cut it out, Kate. You've got a job."

Now it's my turn to scowl with annoyance. "What? Right now?"

"Right now." Damien turns and starts to walk along the long cream colored stone path that leads up to the front doors of the castle. Despite the black exterior, the stone castle isn't the least bit gothic or eerie—in the daytime. At night I've got to admit, it can get a little creepy, but once I'm inside the castle, with its plush cream carpets and light marble walls, I feel completely at home.

"Okay then," I say when Amy skips up next to me and falls into our pace, "give me the details."

Once I resign myself to the job Damien, from his black trench coat, pulls out a thin manila file that I hadn't noticed before. He opens it up, runs a finger down the page and reads: "Evan Oneill, first generation. Changed July 18, 2008 by—unknown. Born to Australian parents but moved to the United States when he was four. Birth date is November 6, 1989."

"Only twenty years old—I take it he's been running amuck for the last year and a half?"

"Says here he's been hopping about the country and couching it on some vampire safe-houses and scent marker homes for the last few months."

"Kill rate?"

Damien glances at me as I stare down the pathway in thought. When I return the stare he turns back down to the file. "As of now he's got it down to two a week. No preferences."

Amy snorts in disbelief. It's a common fact among Lefleure that Amy is a very picky vampire. Nothing out of a blood bag like sometimes I'd take.

"Right. Are you going to tell me why he's here of all places?"

"Well," he replies, as if amused in what he's reading, "he found us."

"He found us? In a year?" Stopping, I turn to Damien. "Found us how?"

"Apparently that's his talent. He's a direction tracker. Heard about us amongst the vampire forums online and got going. Flynt has got him under restraints in the holding room right now."

"And Flynt wants me to do what?"

Damien's handsome face crinkles in a smile. "You're gonna break him, Kate. Get Evan Oneill to tell you how he refined his talent in only a year, given the idea that his change made him insane for a good four to five months. Ask him how he, if he was changed out of the blue, knew where to look and where to go in such a short time."

"Ugh." The entranceway to the inside of the castle is a good four times taller than me, but it takes no effort to get the huge wooden double doors, backed in steel and black iron, open with one hand. But it's still a huge challenge for anyone human to get open. Hey, vampires are cheap—we're suckers for instant and practical defenses. Amy slips in before me while Damien holds the door open like a true gentleman. "Holding room?"

Damien nods and mouths "good luck" while Amy heads off toward her room on the fourth floor. "Bye Kate!" she shouts down the sweeping staircase.

I grin at her naivety; the human impulse calls for shouting, but sometimes Amy doesn't remember we are vampires and can hear through eight feet of concrete insulation. "Laters, Ames."

It takes me a few seconds to make my way to the far west wing of the castle, barraging down three flights of stairs to the underground storehouses of the castle. It used to be that the vampires housed their "meals" there, but now that the human population is booming and the world landscape is severely mapped out, storehouses are no longer used. Now converted into a temporary jail for vampires that need punishment, the storehouse hardly ever sees any action. Except in cases where vampires are caught by the Vampire Association and questioned in the most impenetrable room of the castle—the Holding Room.

Nicholas Flynt, a four hundred year old vampire stuck in his early forties, is just stepping out of the eighteen layer bulletproof-glass room when I arrive at the bottom of the stairs. "Katherine," he says in his dry voice as my eyes flicker to his and then the young man in the room. "I assume Damien already filled you in?"

"He has. Is that Evan right there?" Flynt nods and I further my examination. He sitting comfortably on a metal chair in the middle of the room, body facing the other wall so that he does not see me. I can already tell he's the kind of vampire that would give me snap. "Has he said anything so far?"

"Nothing as of yet. Just the basic stuff. He says he doesn't have a clue as to why he was able to refine his talents in such short a time, but as you know, I can tell he's lying through his teeth." Flynt's talent is that he can tell right off when someone is lying. "So far all I've got is that he seems to respond better to the females.

I grimace and reply, "I'll see what I can do."

"I already wonder if you can do anything. I sent Melissa de Pue in a few seconds ago and he didn't pay her the least bit attention." Flynt turns back toward the transparent door. "Shall I give you the introduction?"

"Please." I follow him at a distance as he enters the room. Evan Oneill barely shifts as the sound of Flynt's footsteps.

"Mr. Oneill, I hope you've changed your mind. Your cooperation is vital to your freedom," explains Flynt to Evan. "Once that hunger starts setting in—"

Evan laughs and runs a semi-pale hand through his dark bronze hair. I note it in my mind; skin that is not fully "vampire pale" is the only physical indication of a new vampire—and even so it's barely detectable. "Mr. Flynt, I don't understand why you don' understand. I've already told you all I know."

Flynt sighs and glances at me. The action draws Evan to turn his head as well and focus his attention on me as well. Obviously his senses are not all attuned yet; I would have noticed the new scent in the air immediately. "Mr. Oneill, this is Katherine Summers."

I barely notice when Evan flashes a smile at me; I'm too busy memorizing his frame and scent. After a half-second I've notes that he has a naturally strong jaw, emphasized by his vampire change, dark brown hair, and the dark bronze eyes of a vampire that hadn't fed in a while. The scent I can't place, but it smells like soap and eighteen hours without a shower. "Hey," I say.

"Hey yourself." Evan replies with a whistle. "I wouldn't mind if you bit me, sweetie."

The guy's a year and a half. I'm seventy. "Take a hike, kid," I reply dryly, and sit down on the metal chair across from Evan.

"Wish I could, but Pops here has got me under lock and key. Twenty four hour surveillance since I got here yesterday." Evan grins. "So what Mr. Flynt, is this the demon who's gonna question me?"

When I raise an eyebrow, Flynt demands, "Who told you that?"

The young vampire before me looks me over. "That Melissa girl. Hey yeah, I'll talk to you. Katherine, is it?"

I wait until Flynt, pursing his lips and throwing me a look, leaves the room and heads up the stairs. "Kate. Flynt's still pretty ancient about some things."

He nods. "Nice place you got here."

"You haven't seen all of it," I reply with a shrug.

"Saw the outside," he tells me. "Only knocked on the front door twice before four vampires knocked me out and dragged me down here. Tight security, this place."

I laugh and say, "Tight enough to prevent first-year vamps from finding out. So— have you decided what are you planning to tell me?"

Sighing, Evan crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. "Whatever. I want out. There's an online American forum called _Sangsue_. Real vampires chatting it up in there."

"I know of it."

"Pretty hard to get into, but I had an MIT friend of mine hack into the server and get me anonymous access. And it was all downhill from there what with my "direction tracking skills" or whatever you guys have been calling it."

"Right. I see." For a moment I glance at a stray lock of hair falling into his eyes. "But how did you get our name?"

"The vampire hunters." He grins and pushes the hair out the way. "Around the Los Angeles area. Just a bunch of old guys with debts to settle, but they've got some pretty good information there."

"And you just what—listened in?"

"Listened in from the safety of the penthouse suite at the Kimmile," he says with an air of pride. "Damn good hearing."

"What'd you do? Rob a bank?" He laughs and I know automatically it's true. I mean, undetectable speed, super strength? It was the first thing I thought of. "Okay, fine. Why did you decide to seek us out?"

"Lefleure is the top of the class under the Volturi. And hey, I don't want to be with a bunch of stuck-up asses in Italy so you guys were the second choice."

"Second choice?" I cross my legs and my dark yellow sundress crinkles. "Evan, Lefleure doesn't take in volunteers. You have to be recruited. And we have _never_ taken in a first-year."

Evan shrugs and obviously doesn't care. "Well. I want in."


End file.
